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rowdydevs · 1 month ago

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+18 -> smut | after throwing you under the bus with his coach, rafe has to make it right, and you're not going to make it easy.

*spoilers* c/w: mean rafe, sub!rafe, possessiveness, dom!reader, dark!reader, swearing, name-calling, pet names, gaslighting (by the reader), walking into his room uninvited, begging, degradation, teasing, rubbing him over his jeans at the library, cum tasting, slapping, unsolicited nudes, rafe is down bad *cross-posted on my nhl account

𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓰𝓮 𝓗𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓮𝔂 𝓢𝓾𝓫𝓑𝓾𝓵𝓵𝔂!𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓓𝓸𝓶𝓣𝓾𝓽𝓸𝓻!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

Rafe’s POV 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

I knew I was screwed the second I walked into Coach’s office. The way he was sitting—arms crossed, jaw tight—that look usually came before a sharp whistle and a no-pucks practice. But today wasn’t about my performance on the ice. No, this was about the damn accounting test I’d bombed. Again.

And sitting beside me, looking as composed as ever, was her. Your Name. My tutor. My painfully bright, always-on-time, way-too-fuckin’-hot-for-her-own-good tutor.

She was brilliant. And yeah, okay—maybe I had a massive, inconvenient, completely unrequited crush on her. But I was also failing, and now we were both in deep shit.

“Rafe.” Coach’s voice was low and controlled, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “This is your third failed test. And it’s not just embarrassing for you—it’s embarrassing for this program.”

“I know, Coach—”

“Then why the hell am I sittin’ here havin’ this conversation? You have a tutor. A good one. One who’s never had a student fail like this. So what’s the problem?”

I glanced at Your Name—her posture stiff, hands folded neatly in her lap. She looked ready to fight, but she wouldn’t. She never lost her cool.

Coach sighed, turning to her. “I don’t get it, Your Name. You’ve got a perfect track record with these boys. My players always pass. But now, suddenly, Rafe’s grades are tanking. What changed?”

She cleared her throat, sitting straighter. “Nothing, sir. I’ve been doing my job. I promise—”

“Then why isn’t it working?”

There was a beat of silence. She shot me a side-eye. I knew she wanted me to take the hit.

“Maybe she’s just not into it anymore,” I said with a shrug. “Could be personal. Or maybe she’s not working as hard as she used to.” The second the words left my mouth, I knew I’d fucked up. I felt the heat of her glare without even looking.

Coach exhaled sharply. “Well, Cameron, if she’s not into this, maybe we should find you a new tutor.”

My stomach dropped. I shifted in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable—but I kept my face neutral. I didn’t want a new tutor. Not because I actually cared about passing accounting but because I liked sitting next to her during those torturous sessions. I liked the way she barely tolerated my jokes. I liked being around her. I wasn’t about to admit any of that, though.

So I just said, “I’m sure she’ll do better.”

The air in the room thickened. I didn’t dare look at her, but I could feel her anger radiating off her—controlled, contained, ready to boil over.

Coach sighed, rubbing his temple. “Fine. The accounting professor is letting you redo the test. Your Name, this is your last chance to prove yourself. If he fails again, you’re done.”

She nodded, lips pressed into a tight line. “Understood, sir.”

Coach dismissed us, and the second we stepped into the hallway and the door clicked shut behind us, she turned on me.

Whack.

My head snapped to the side as the sting seared across my cheek. I blinked, stunned.

She slapped me.

She smacked the hell out of me in the middle of the athletic department hallway… And God help me, I had never been more turned on in my life.

I stared at her—chest rising, cheek burning in the best way. She was fuming, her eyes ablaze, breath short and tight.

“Are you kidding me, Rafe?” she hissed. “You’re failing because of you. Because you don’t fucking care. And you sat there and threw me under the bus? In front of Coach? You’re a fuckin’ pussy.”

I licked my lips, heart hammering. “Yeah,” I murmured. “That was pretty messed up.”

Her eyes narrowed, clearly unamused. “Messed up? Rafe, I need this job. And if you fail that test again, I’m screwed.”

“Guess you’ll just have to make sure I pass, then.”

She let out a frustrated noise, fists clenched, and I couldn’t stop the smirk that tugged at my lips. God, she was hot when she was mad.

“Fuck you,” she snapped. I lowered my bag, trying to hide the hard-on, tenting my sweats. “Library. One PM.”

I rolled my eyes and sucked my teeth before turning my attention back to her. “Yes, ma’am.”

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴⋆. Later that day…

Reader’s POV 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

Fuck…

I’d never hit anyone before. But the moment he threw me under the bus in Coach’s office—like I hadn’t been bending over backward trying to drag his sorry-ass GPA above a D—something in me snapped.

And now I was doing something just as impulsive: marching up to the damn hockey house at 1:30 because he stood me up.

After all that… Rafe Cameron dared to try me.

I climbed the stairs, the heavy scent of Dior Sauvage and sweaty hockey equipment already leaking from under the door. The second I knocked, JJ answered.

He leaned into the doorframe with a lazy, cocky grin, hair still damp from a shower, towel slung over his shoulders, wearing nothing but sweats and slides.

“Well, shit,” he drawled. “How are you, tutor girl?”

“Good,” I smiled, stepping inside, feeling his eyes rake over me.

“Rafe’s upstairs, sunshine. You better not slap him again,” he laughed, half-teasing, half-genuinely impressed. “You’re never gonna get rid of him.”

“—Hey, Your Name,” Kelce met me at the steps, before I could even process the embarrassment of Rafe telling JJ.

I sighed and smiled, stepping past him on my way up. “Rafe missed our session. Again.”

“Figures,” he said through a yawn. “Are we surprised?”

I rolled my eyes, chuckling tiredly. “Nothing surprises me with him.”

“You coming to our game tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said with a soft smile.

“Good,” he called after me. “We play better when you’re watchin’.” He flirted and winked, and I shook my head, trying to hide the dizzy grin tugging at my lips. But it was useless as Pope passed by and agreed with the captain.

I walked to the end of the hallway, my footsteps soft against the worn hardwood, my heart pounding harder with each step. I stopped before Rafe’s door—faint music leaked from the other side. I knocked twice. No answer. That anger from earlier started to swell again.

Creak.

The old floorboards shifted. He was definitely in there.

“Rafe,” I snapped. “I know you’re in there. You missed your session, and this is important. I’m coming in.”

I gave him one final second, then twisted the handle and opened the door. Nothing. Then I heard it. Soft and breathless. My name? Not just whispered—but whined.

The room was dim, the curtains mostly drawn. I stepped forward, slow, trying to process what I’d just heard. My name again. Quieter this time, but unmistakable. And just as unmistakable—his deep, fucked-out moans.

I froze, fingers grazing the edge of the half-open door. His voice was hoarse and low, spilling from his lips like he was talking to me. “Fuck, Your Name, always lookin’ at me like that… You don’t know what you’re doing to me…”

My lips parted as I listened to the sloppy, rhythmic sounds, making it painfully clear what he was doing. His voice was thick with need and desperation. “Gonna bend you over, pretty—this perfect fuckin’ ass. This fuckin’ pussy… All for me? Mmphh… I know it is. Atta baby…”

Knock.

I smacked the door, sharp and hard. The air in the room shifted. Rafe sucked in a breath so fast it sounded like it hurt, no doubt scrambling for clothes.

“What the hell, Your Name?” His voice was weak—defensive in a way I’d never heard before. And I couldn’t help it—I smiled. Because Rafe Cameron—cocky, insufferable, wildly infuriating Rafe Cameron—was just jerking off to me. Confirmed. No more guessing. No more wondering. And maybe, just maybe… I loved it.

Rafe’s POV 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

“Fuck…” I rolled out my neck and took a deep breath. She was so angry. So righteous. So fuckin’ sexy. And I was losing my mind over it.

Leaning forward, I pressed my forehead to the door that separated us. “Your Name…” I mumbled. “I deserved it, alright,” I muttered under my breath. “Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that why you’re barging into my room? That fuckin’ slap—I needed it, okay.”

“What were you doing?” Her voice was soft and innocent—almost sweet. A voice I’d rarely heard her use. But it hit like a gut punch. Because laced in that tonel was her way of saying: I heard everything. Blood drained from my face so fast I felt dizzy. There was no coming back from this. “May I?”

I didn’t even think—just mumbled, “Yeah,” under my breath. Weak and defensive. Like a guy who’d just been caught doin’ precisely what I was doin’.

The handle twisted. The door creaked open. Then—she stepped inside. She smiled at me like this wasn’t the most humiliating moment of my entire fuckin’ life.

But my eyes couldn’t help it. They dropped instantly—to her glossy lips, then lower, catching the way her shirt clung to her tits. The way her jeans sat just right on her hips. She was glowing, so soft and sexy. I licked my lips before I could stop myself, the fire under my skin reigniting like she’d flipped a damn switch. “What the hell are you doing here?” I snapped, voice sharper than I meant. “What—making house calls now? Gonna start poppin’ in every time one of your screw-up athletes misses a session?”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. She just smiled again and stepped closer, and the second she did, so did I, drawn to her like a goddamn magnet. My breath caught. She stayed quiet, and I couldn’t take the silence—the waiting. I felt like I was crawling out of my skin.

“Say somethin’,” I huffed, voice low and desperate. “Please.”

She tilted her head—all fake innocence and lethal calm. “So…” she said, eyes flicking up to meet mine. “Do you wanna tell me what you were doin’ in here—” She took another step closer, eyes glinting. “Or do you want me to guess?”

My whole body was locked up. Cheeks burning. Skin on fire. Shame and heat colliding. I’d never blushed harder in my life. “Tell me,” I whispered. And I hated how needy it sounded. I didn’t even know what I was asking for. Maybe I did. I just wanted to hear her say it. I wanted the words from her mouth.

She looked up at me, that same maddening smile tugging at her lips—like she knew exactly what I needed. And she was going to make me suffer for it. “You want me to say it? Okay—” She leaned in slightly, chin tilted, voice just this side of mocking. “You were in here,” she said slowly, voice dripping with condescension, “moaning my name with your hand wrapped around your cock, thinking about how I slapped you. How I put you in your place.”

Every word hit like a blow: hot, sharp, and precise. I couldn’t even look at her. She tilted her head, eyes sweeping over me with slow, deliberate amusement. Then her lips curled, and she delivered another strike.

“You really couldn’t help yourself, huh?” she murmured. “All that discipline on the ice and none of it where it counts. You’re just a pathetic, horny mess in the bathroom over a girl who slapped the shit out of you.”

I moved before I could think. Surged forward. But she stepped back with a laugh—light, sharp—dodging me easily before she walked deeper into my room.

“What was that?” she asked, looking over her shoulder, brow arched in disgust—like the idea of me touching her was laughable. “Seriously, Rafe? After today? After that?”

It was cruel. It was perfect. She was baiting me—dangling herself just out of reach, pretending I was the one crossing a line when she was the one playing the game like a fuckin’ pro. It made me want her more. My voice cracked as I followed her. Heat crawling up my neck. “You want me to beg?” I asked, my voice stuttering in my throat.

She turned slowly, smiling like she’d already won. “Yeah,” she said sweetly. “I think that’s a good start.”

“Please…”

She laughed. Her arms folded as she looked me up and down as if I were a toy she was still deciding whether or not to play with. “Unless there’s a puck and a stick, you really don’t give a fuck, do you?” Her smile darkened. “I heard you in the bathroom, Rafe. I heard how desperate you can be.” She stepped closer, her voice turning to a blade. “Fucking beg.”

And as soon as those beautiful, brutal words left her lips—I sank. I dropped to my knees on the cold hardwood, my chest rising and falling rapidly. She looked down at me with a glint in her eyes—and I couldn’t tell if she wanted to ruin me or kiss me. I wanted both.

“Please, Your Name,” I whispered. The words barely hold together. “I’m sorry—about everything. I didn’t mean to be an asshole earlier, I just—God, I don’t even know. I can’t think straight around you. You’re so smart and pretty, and I’m such a fuckin’ mess, and I know I don’t deserve it, but I want you.” My hands rested on her thighs, my eyes locked on hers, desperate and pleading.

She was starting to melt—I saw it. In the flicker of her lips. In the shift of her stance. The way her breathing changed. I leaned in, crawling a little closer.

“Tell me what to do,” I begged again, softer now, hoarse. “Make me earn it. I’ll do a good job for you, I swear. I’ll tell Coach what’s goin’ on… I’ll take the hit I should’ve taken from the start. You can trust me. I just want to make you feel good. I want to apologize—”

“Meet me at the library at seven,” she cut me off, cool and final, brushing my hands off her thighs with a touch that shattered something inside me. “Don’t be late.”

“Your Name, wait—” I scrambled up, voice cracking, stumbling slightly as I reached out, catching her wrist before she could leave. “You’re—Shit. Uh… You’re leaving? Why? Don’t go. Please. Just—Just stay. You wanna stay, don’t you? C’mon…”

“Calm down, Rafe…” she purred. “If you’re that desperate, you can finish what you were doin’ in the bathroom… Like a good boy.”

Oh, shit.

And just like that, she walked out—leaving me hard, flushed, and aching.

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴⋆. Later that day…

I showed up at 6:30, Thirty minutes early—with flowers in hand. Not just any flowers, either. Romantic shit. Her favorite color in a desperate attempt to score a few points. The kind that said ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I want you’ all at once. Or at least that’s what JJ said. I don’t fuckin’ know. I was panicking.

I’d actually put on an outfit: a button-up that wasn’t wrinkled or my gameday attire. No sweats, no hoodie. She’d once complimented my clothes—some random day when I had a meeting and wore something halfway decent. But it had stuck with me for weeks.

Now I sat at the table pretending to read, eyes locked on the entrance like a hawk, anticipation crawling up my spine. And then she walked in. Her little skirt swayed with each step, catching the breeze from the ancient AC unit. Her hair shifted over her shoulders, phone in hand, thumb gliding across the screen, lip tucked between her teeth as she read something. My jaw clenched as jealousy surged out of nowhere. Who the hell was she texting? Fuck, I was in trouble.

She took the seat across from me without even glancing up. Set her water bottle down, popped the lid, and took a sip from the straw. And suddenly, all I could think about was her mouth. Her lips, soft and perfect, wrapping around that straw—and what it would feel like on me.

“So,” she said casually, sliding a notebook out of her bag, “after that meeting in Coach’s office, we’ve got work to do.”

Not a flicker of acknowledgment. Nothing about the slap. Nothing about the bathroom. Nothing about the begging or about her telling me to finish in the sink like a ‘good boy’. Nothing. I blinked at her, caught completely off guard. “Wait—seriously?”

She glanced at me, confused. “What?” she asked, brows raised, perfectly innocent.

My heart stuttered. Was she gaslighting me? Fuck, she was. I adjusted my jeans slightly, feeling myself already starting to stiffen. “I, uh—I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Pretty flowers,” she murmured. “Thank you… It’s water under the bridge.”

And I couldn’t help it—my voice dropped, quiet like I wasn’t even sure what happened anymore. “When you stopped by my place earlier—”

“Stopped by?” Her head tilted. That same slow, devastating smile spread across her lips. “Wow,” she said lightly, feigning surprise. “That doesn’t really sound like somethin’ I’d do.”

I just stared at her speechless. Too far gone to pull myself out. I laughed, breathlessly, trying to play it cool even as my pulse pounded. “Yeah, you did,” I said, watching her closely. “You stopped by and asked why I didn’t show up for our session.”

Her expression shifted. That teasing sparkle flashed behind her eyes. But her voice dropped—sharp and precise. “Well,” she said instantly, “I don’t make house calls, Rafe.”

My eyes widened. She threw my own words back at me, twisting the knife. God, she was good. I leaned forward slightly, heat pooling in my cheeks. “You told me to meet you here at seven. How would I know if you didn't tell me?”

She shrugged, twirling her pen between her fingers. “That is a mystery,” she said, sweet and curious all at once, “but good on you, Rafe. You showed up like a…” She paused and waited for me to finish her sentence. My heart slammed in my chest, sweat beading on my neck. I knew what she wanted me to say. She knew I knew. It tumbled out before I could stop it.

“…A good boy.”

Her head snapped toward me with a look of mock disgust, lips twitching like she was trying not to laugh. “Well, I was gonna say good student,” she drawled. “Jesus Christ, Rafe. Calm down.” And I swore my brain short-circuited trying to survive her. “So,” she said with a bright, innocent smile, “accounting?”

She reached into her backpack like nothing had happened—like I hadn’t begged her on my knees like she hadn’t ruined my ability to think about anything but her.

She slid one of the books across the table to me and clicked her pen a few times. The sound echoed, sharp in the quiet library.

Then she crossed her legs, skirt riding up just enough to kill my last two functioning brain cells. She leaned forward slightly to turn on the little table lamp, and the way her tits shifted under her shirt made me throw my empty head back, staring at the ceiling like it could save me. I shut my eyes. Drew a deep, jagged breath.

“Page 99,” she said casually, tapping the book in front of me. I looked down at the textbook—the weathered cover. The word Accounting staring back at me like a dare. I grabbed the lid, fumbling with the book. I tried to breathe like a normal fuckin’ human—and flipped it open. Then I stopped.

Dead.

My heart slammed against my ribs because a Polaroid sat between the pages. Her. In my hockey jersey. Nothing on underneath. Sprawled across, what I could only dream was her bed—her hair was perfection, lips parted, one hand curled in the hem of the jersey like she was seconds away from showing me more.

I forgot how to blink. I forgot how to breathe. “Wait—”

“Well,” she cut off my panic with faux curiosity, reaching over and calmly plucking the photo from the pages before slipping it back into her bag like it was just another sticky note. “How did that get in there?”

I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t. Because all I could think about was how I’d do absolutely anything to see that picture again. So I did the only thing I could do. I sat there like a good student. I didn’t say a word. I barely breathed—I just followed her lead, turned the pages when she told me to and scribbled down notes willingly for the first time in three and a half years here, feeding off her praise like it was air. I couldn’t get enough.

I watched her closely, soaking in every detail. How her eyes lit up when she explained something. How her lips moved when she mouthed equations under her breath. How her ankle swung where her legs were crossed, skirt barely covering her thighs.

And it wasn’t just about how hot she was or how she looked in that picture that was now burned into my brain—it was everything. I could see her being mine. I could picture her in the stands, wearing my name, making her proud every fucking night. I could imagine her in my room. In my life. My everything. What the fuck is happening to me?

I was mid-sentence—trying to explain something I barely understood—when my voice caught. I stumbled over the words, and it wasn’t because the concept was hard. It was because her fingers had just brushed my thigh.

She walked them slowly over the denim of my jeans, right to the inside of my leg, making my heart race and my head spin. I tried to pretend I was okay. That I wasn’t seconds away from falling apart. I adjusted in my chair, but it was useless. Her hand moved higher.

My jaw tightened as she traced the seam of my jeans—light and teasing. I swallowed hard. My heart was pounding so loud I was sure she could hear it. I looked at her, but she wasn’t even looking at me. She was pretending to read one of my notes like she wasn’t currently turning me into a fucking mess.

Then she went further. Her hand landed on my thigh—a soft squeeze. “Good job,” she said warmly. A deep, involuntary groan left my throat. Her palm flattened over my crotch, slow and firm, cupping me through my jeans. My lips parted. Breath caught.

I flexed my thighs, trying to ground myself—trying not to jerk forward into her hand like I wanted to. She stroked me through the denim—soft, steady pressure—and I was already half-gone.

My blood was rushing low, fast. My cock pressed against the zipper so hard it ached.

I blinked down at the textbook and tried to read the words—any of them—but they were all fuzzy. I clenched my jaw to keep from moaning. I tipped my head back, eyes shut, fighting the urge to press my mouth to her skin or bury myself in her neck.

She smirked, wicked, and kept her hand moving. Slow. Unrelenting. I shifted in my seat, fingers curling against the underside of the table. My thighs trembled. My stomach tightened. Every nerve in my body was focused on her touch, the rhythm of it, and how goddamn close I was to losing it.

She leaned in, flipped a page in my notes like nothing was happening, and said— “So… what’s your final answer for number six?”

I could barely remember my own name. “A—A hundred and fuck,” I stammered, my tone nothing short of pathetic. “A hundred and five.”

She grinned, eyes flicking to my face. “Good choice… Good fucking boy.” I ran a hand through my hair, my forehead damp, and I couldn’t take it anymore. My orgasm hit me so hard I saw white.

I reached down and grabbed her wrist tight under the table as I came in my jeans—hot and heavy—every pulse dragging a deep, broken breath from my lungs. My head bowed. My mouth stayed open, panting, still locked in her grasp.

She didn’t move. Let me ride it out. Then, like it was nothing, she brushed her fingers over the wet patch on my thigh—spreading it slightly. I shuddered, completely overstimulated.

She pulled her hand back and, eyes still locked on mine, sucked the tip of her middle and pointer fingers clean. My fists clenched, and my jaw locked. My cock still twitched in the mess she’d made.

Then she reached over and closed the book like she hadn’t just ruined me. “Good job tonight,” she said casually, standing, her smile warm. Easy. Like she didn’t just blow my mind in the middle of the fuckin’ library. My breathing was still heavy, my hands still gripping the table.

I looked down at my stained jeans, still trying to catch up and understand what had just happened—when she walked away. I stared after her, paralyzed. The second she disappeared from view, I fumbled for my phone—my heart still hammering—and it buzzed just as I got it out.

Tutor Girl: My place. 10 PM. Don’t be late.

ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴⋆. Later that night…

I stepped out of my car, adrenaline coursing through my veins. It was 9:57. I wasn’t about to be late.

I jogged to the door of the college house and knocked once—sharp and quick.

One of her roommates answered, giving me an uncertain smile.

“Hi,” she said hesitantly.

“I, uh… Is Your Name here?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, slightly confused. “She went to bed an hour ago—”

“She’s expecting me,” I cut her off before she could even finish. Your Name was fuckin’ with me. Again. And fuck… she was perfect. “Up the hall, to the left, yeah?” I asked, already stepping inside.

She nodded, and I took the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding harder with every step. Her door was closed. A thin sliver of light crept out from beneath it.

I knocked once. Then, I pressed my ear to the wood.

Silence.

Then I heard it. “Fuck, Rafe…” She whimpered. My cock twitched instantly at the sound. It was soft. Desperate. Like she’d been waiting all day to say it.

“Just like that—” She praised me, her tone so needy that I couldn’t help but push the door open, and then my heart stopped.

There she was, in the center of her bed: skin glowing, dewy, lips parted, eyes shut, that same satisfied little smile tugging at her mouth. She was wearing my jersey and nothing else.

Her fingers were buried deep inside herself. Her head tipped back against the pillow. Chest rising and falling in slow, heavy waves.

Her eyes met mine with a wicked sparkle that told me this was all for me. Unlike me, she wanted to get caught, and she wanted me to finish it.

#rafe #Rafe smut #Rafe Cameron x reader #rafe one shot 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹#hockey!rafe ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ #hockey!rafe #my library ᝰ.ᐟ

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catofadifferentcolor · 7 months ago

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Terrible Fic Idea #92: Percy/Apollo, but make it The Trojan War

Into every fandom, a time travel fic must fall - or in this case a second one, because I somehow got to thinking about the delightful PJO trope of Percy being thrown back in time to The Trojan War and realized that doing so misses out on a fantastic opportunity.

Or: What if post-TOA Percy Jackson and Apollo time travel to shortly before The Trojan War?

aka the Tried To Change The Ending fic

Just imagine it:

Everything follows canon through TOA, with one exception: rather than struggle to catch up in the mortal world following the Second Gigantomachy, Percy elects to stay at Camp Half-Blood. There he can homeschool at his own place with programs tailored towards ADHD children and still visit his family on the weekends - and not get into any more ridiculous situations in the mortal world when one of the gods kidnaps him or sends him on a quest to find their sneakers.

This, naturally, stresses his relationship with Annabeth - who, now that she's no longer living at camp full time, calls it the easy way out. But Percy is tired and struggling in mortal high school where everyone thinks he's a delinquent idiot when another option exists seems foolish. Percy and Annabeth break up and drift apart.

Enter Apollo, fresh from his latest stint as a mortal. He's trying to do his best by his children, which includes popping by camp as often as he can get away with - which in turn means spending a lot of time with Percy, who at this point is unofficially running CHB because it's not like Dionysus or even Chiron have done a brilliant job of it in recent times.

(First aid, strategy, and mythology classes are made mandatory. Percy personally ensures every demigod knows enough about self-defense to be able to survive long enough to run away or for help to arrive. Bullying is cracked down on so hard that it's this, not Percy's generally parental nature, that has people calling him Camp Mom.)

Percy and Apollo become friendly. Enough so that some of Apollo's kids assume they're dating and keeping it on the down-low so as not to draw Zeus' ire. Or Poseidon's. Or anyone else's. It's on one of their not-dates that they're yeeted into the past, without warning or explanation.

And so 19-year-old Percy Jackson and post-TOA Apollo find themselves in Ancient Greece c. 1220 BCE, roughly thirty-five years before the destruction of Troy.

The time travel is immediately obvious, as Apollo becomes the closest thing a god might experience to being high the moment they land in the past - being a powerful god in modern times is nothing like being a powerful god at the height of his power in ancient times. It's overwhelming (and somewhat alarming from Percy's POV, but kind of funny in retrospect.)

The specific date is harder to determine, but made clear when Hermes shows up and starts going on about you'll never believe what father's done now: he seduced the Spartan queen as a swan and she's laid an egg. Hera is furious - especially as they're saying the girl that hatched from it is the most beautiful in the world, even though she's only a few days old. It's nuts. By the way, where have you been? You missed the last two council meetings. Do you want Dad to punish you?

Apollo at this stage is very high. He's also been USTing over Percy for quite some time and is worried what the gods of this era might do to Percy without divine protection (smiting or seduction, it's all on the table). But mostly he's very high, and so to keep Percy close and safe he declares he's been off having the dirtiest of dirty weekends with his latest lover and that Hermes' presence is ruining the mood. So if he would kindly leave, please and thank you, he'd really rather get back to it without an audience.

This, naturally, is a surprise to Percy, but he rolls with it because 1) he doesn't have any better ideas on how to get rid of Ancient Greek Hermes so they can figure out what the hades is going on and 2) he's been USTing over Apollo ever since he recovered enough from Tartarus to start feeling attraction again.

Fueled by mutual UST, they put together a cover story that should hold the next time a god with too much prurient interest shows: Percy is now Prince Persē of Gadir - a Phoenician colony that will grow into the future Cadiz - well past the edge of the Greek world at this stage but not beyond belief for Poseidon to have visited, as it's obvious who his father is. They claim his mother is the King of Gadir's youngest sister and as such Persē had a royal upbringing, but was far enough down the line of succession that he was free to chose to sail east and explore his father's homeland. Apollo caught sight of him on his journey, one thing led to another, and here they are.

(Are there easier, more sensible cover stories? Possibly. But the UST refuses to let them consider any of them now that a fake relationship is on the table.)

Deciding what to do about The Trojan War is much harder. On the one hand, it's a lot of senseless death and destruction. On the other, without it we don't get The Iliad and The Odyssey - two of the most influential works of literature in western civilization - and Aeneas doesn't go off to Italy (leading to the founding of Rome, which would change the history of western civilization a lot). In the end, they decide to let the war happen but do their best to mitigate the worst parts of it.

And so Percy goes off and becomes a hero of Ancient Greece while pretending to be in a relationship with Apollo.

This stage of things is filed with angst from both parties, as both Percy and Apollo want a real relationship with each other but think they're abusing the other's trust by eagerly faking their relationship. There's a lot of PDA, a lot of feelings, and limited communication. It goes on for quite a while and would probably exasperate quite a few people if everyone in the know didn't think they were already in a relationship.

It's also filled with modern day Percy being confronted by realties of life in Ancient Greece. It's not just mortals knowing about - and interacting with - the gods: it's everything. It's food and clothes and language and culture and housing and travel. He can play a lot off it as being a traveler from the edge of the known world, but some of it has him asking Apollo if he's being rick rolled.

Apollo, meanwhile, is having troubles of his own. He is not the god he used to be and it's hard pretending otherwise. He tries to walk the line of doing enough to be believable and holding back enough not to despise himself, but it's a fine line, he fails often, and he spends a not insignificant amount of time worried he's backsliding.

And so it goes until 7-year-old Helen of Troy is kidnapped by Theseus to be his wife.

This, naturally, does not fly with Percy, who by this time has built up something of a reputation as a hero. He teams up with the Dioscuri to rescue Helen.

One would think this would earn him Zeus' favor. It doesn't. Instead, Zeus sends monsters to harry him for refusing to let Castor and Pollux take Helen's captors' loved ones captive and raze Aphidna for Theseus' crime. Percy manages to hold his own for quite a while but eventually, exhausted from the near-constant fighting, is gored and left for dead by the reformed Minotaur.

...and when Apollo arrives, frantic, to heal him, Percy ascends instead, becoming the greek version of Saint Sebastian - a minor god of heroes, strength in the face of adversity, and athleticism; sort of halfway between Hercules and Chiron.

Then and only then do Percy and Apollo finally get their act together, confessing to each other how much they care for the other and how much they don't want this to be fake any longer.

History proceeds apace - albeit with Persē being a second immortal trainer of heroes.

24 years after their arrival in the past, 16 years after Percy's ascension, The Trojan War begins. Despite their best efforts, there's only so much they can do - war is war and gods are gods. They are able to stop some of the worst excesses on both sides, but in the end Apollo still sends the plague that causes Agamemnon to take Briseis for his own, which caused Achilles' departure from the field, Patroclus' death, &c - not because Apollo was trying to maintain the timeline, but because in the instant he sent it he was angry and reverted to his old ways.

Troy falls...

...but when Zeus tries to use this as an excuse to ban gods from interacting with their demigod children, Apollo is able to say that's a bit extreme isn't it? with enough backing from the rest of the council that Zeus is forced to amend his ruling so that the gods are only allowed to freely visit their children on the "cross quarter days" that fall between each solstice and equinox (1 February, 1 May, 1 August, and 1 November).

This changes everything and nothing.

Time continues its inevitable march. Greece has its golden age before being conquered by Rome, which splits apart under its own weight and forms several smaller countries, which eventually spread their cultures around the world...

Apollo and Percy are there for it all. Persē is a minor figure in mythology, but never forgotten. He is ever-present in Apollo's temples - though the Church will later try to rewrite their myth so that they were merely sworn fighting partners, rather than lovers who eventually had a quite lovely wedding on Olympus (and then, at Poseidon's insistence, an even bigger ceremony on Atlantis). Percy takes over day-to-day operations of CHB from practically the moment the Trojan War ends.

...and so Persē is there the day Sally Jackson tries to get her son to camp, and is able to intervene when the Minotaur attacks on their border. He's able to meet her and her young son, Perseus ("Mom named me after you and the guy that killed Medusa since you're the only two heroes to have happy endings!"), and guide him through the trials that come with being a child of prophecy.

One day that Percy will hand Luke - who was never happy with the limited attention the gods were allowed to give their children - a cursed dagger so that Kronos can be defeated. That child will be offered godhood, turn it down, and go on to have a happy life with his eventual wife, Annabeth. He will never have his memories erased and be sent to Camp Jupiter. Gaia will not rise until long after that Percy's grandchildren are dead, and Zeus will not be quite so bullheaded when the proof of it is brought before him. That Second Gigantomachy is swift, well-coordinated, and fought without another Greek/Roman war brewing in the background.

And when they finally arrive at the day Apollo and Percy were originally sent back in time, Percy admits that while he is happy some version of him was better prepared for the war he was asked to fight in and allowed his peace afterward, he would change nothing about his own life, for it brought him to Apollo. The sunrise the next morning - on the first morning of the rest of their lives - is particularly spectacular.

Bonuses include:

Gaslighting Poseidon into believing that he's met Percy before the first time they're introduced. ("What do you mean you don't remember me, Father? You were present when I came of age! You gifted me this trident! Have I displeased you in some way?") It's an absolute masterclass that eventually manages to convince Poseidon that, yes, of course he knows Percy - and, maybe, he should check in on all his other demigod children to make sure he's not missed someone. (Two. He lost track of two of the others. Maybe he should be more careful about siring children in the future.) Apollo practically has to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing.

As much historical accuracy as can be crammed into the Percy trying to make sense of Ancient Greece chapters as possible. Think Of a Linear Circle - Part III by flamethrower levels of historical research. As much as can be shoehorned in without bogging down the plot.

Percy and Dionysus bonding over their mutual dislike of Theseus, though Percy generally gets along with his other half-siblings, especially the ones who come to camp young enough to keep from getting big heads over being the children of Poseidon.

Though Percy adores all the children in Cabin 7 (most of whom are born via blessing this time around), he and Apollo have at least one child of their own - maybe a demigod born before Percy's ascension to sell their fake relationship? Maybe a minor god who's later attributed a different parentage by mortals? Dealer's choice on details.

It never being made clear who, or what, or how, Percy and Apollo were sent into the past. All of Percy's oddities are attributed to him being foreign or formerly mortal, all of Apollo's to the fact that he's in love with someone who didn't die before their first anniversary, and no one ever guesses time travel is responsible for their eccentricities. Or that time travel was ever an option.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt, just link back if you ever decide to do anything with it.

More PJO Ideas | More Terrible Fic Ideas

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tarysande · 7 months ago

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There are a couple more Garrus-Vakarian-related hills I'm willing to die on.

Maybe this particular bit of fanon has faded over the years, but there used to be a lot of insistence that Garrus is young and somehow inexperienced when he meets Shepard. Canon doesn't really support this. Turians start their mandatory service at 15. Garrus has at least a decade of experience. Even if he's 2-4 of years younger than Shepard (according to Patrick Weekes), he's got at least as much field experience as she does by dint of the difference in turian and human "enlistment" ages.

Garrus is really damn good at his job at C-Sec. You don't give the Case of Investigating the Rogue Spectre to a greenhorn. You give it to your best, most tenacious agent. Pallin may not always approve of Garrus's actions, but that doesn't actually stop him from putting Garrus on the tough case. Also, we don't know much about how C-Sec works but we do know a bit about how the turian hierarchy works, and we know C-Sec was essentially a turian initiative. That means it's a meritocracy where failure reflects on the superior, not the one who failed. So, in roughly a decade (Shepard's 29 in ME1; I always think of Garrus as about 27), Garrus has not only done shipboard military service, but he's also risen to be one of C-Sec's top investigators; Pallin wouldn't risk having Garrus's "failure" reflect poorly on HIM otherwise. I'd say that actually makes Garrus as remarkable in civilian law enforcement terms as Shepard is considered to be within the ranks of the Alliance military.

Of course Garrus was scouted by the Spectre program. And honestly, if his dad hadn't stepped in, I think Garrus would have become a Spectre, no problem. Especially for a turian, he's cut from precisely the cloth the Spectres would be looking for: extremely skilled, extremely capable, and--most importantly--he's a turian not just able but willing to work outside the chains of command that turians are taught from birth to revere and be loyal to above all else. This is the reason Pallin is leery about Spectres: he's a good turian. Good turians follow straight lines; they don't carve out their own paths.

Garrus's dad's not dumb, and he's not cruel, and he, too, rose to the top of the C-Sec hierarchy. He took one look at his kid, I think, and said, "I love my child, but I'd say it's a 50-50 chance he ends up a shooting-first-asking-questions-later Spectre like Saren Arterius, and I don't want to see that happen." Yeah, he uses his parental influence to try and jam square-peg-Garrus into round-hole-C-Sec and Garrus resents him for it, but there's no way he did it just to stop his son from getting his way or because he doesn't like Spectres. I expect Vakarian Sr. had to clean up more post-Spectre-interference messes than we can possibly imagine. But we also know he and Alec Ryder were pals later.

So the importance of what Garrus learns from a Paragon Spectre Shepard is this: You can't just do what you want and claim the ends always justify the means. That's what Saren does. Over and over again. Garrus's code and his idealism and his sense of justice and his ability to work alone should make him a great Spectre, actually, but he needs Paragon Spectre Shepard's actions to show him the lesson he tells her he's learned during ME1: "If the people I'm sworn to protect can't trust me... well, then I don't deserve to be the one protecting them." (And the seed of Archangel was planted.) I think for the first time he realizes that even though he believes his sense of justice to be correct, it doesn't matter for shit if he can't show others why that's so. And that's where the trust comes in. (Also, ow, the extra level of importance this gives their exchange where she tells him she trusts him and he tells her she's about the only friend he has left is... a lot. Cool, cool. I'm totally fine. Nothing to see here.)

When Shepard asks him what happened on Omega, he replies, "My feelings got in the way of my better judgement." Something tells me that this never happens to "good" turians, which just makes the line so much more devastating. And although the lesson some might take away from this is "feelings bad; no feelings ever," the "grey" that Garrus has to learn to deal with is precisely the grey of recognizing feelings, validating them even, but not acting on them until they've been examined. (Which is why my Shepard stands between him and Sidonis; she doesn't give a shit about Sidonis. But Garrus has refused to process his own feelings of failure and self-loathing, so they have to take the therapy session to the Citadel and deal with it there.)

Ahh yes. The mountain range of character analysis.

#mass effect #garrus vakarian #femshep #paragon shepard #thinky thoughts #mass effect meta #long text post #i have no idea if i'm repeating things i wrote about more than a decade ago but oh well lol #october is for talking about mass effect i guess #happy birthday month to me

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python-programming-language · 2 months ago

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2 Jahre bei SoloLearn ...

Heute habe ich meinen 2-jährigen Lauf erreicht, d.h. ich habe 730 Tage lang täglich mit SoloLearn gelernt. Mein Abo habe ich jetzt aber beendet. Momentan absolviere ich noch den Einführungskurs in C++, werde mich aber danach auf Python, Small Visual Basic und Scratch konzentrieren.

Post #243: SoloLearn, Mein 730-Tage-Lauf, 2025.

#programming #coding #education #i love coding #coding is fun #learning #i love programming #programming language #i love python #coding for kids #sololearn #teaching #tutorial #learn python #c++ programming

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wojenka · 8 months ago

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tagged by @wolfsangel

1. named after anyone? no but my grandma chose my current name 2. last time I cried? today 3. kids? my plushies 4. sports? sleeping (n skating in winter) 5. sarcasm? hard to understand 6. first thing I notice about something? shape 7. eye color? that weird grey color that either looks green or blue to people 8. scary movies or happy endings? scary movies 9. talents? communicating with anything that has a soul 10. place of birth? c++ compiler 11. hobbies? programming, drawing, music, reserching topics no one cares about 12. pets? da dog, da hamster, soon da stickbugs 13. height? 5'5 or somwthing 14. favorite school subject? i dunno 15. dream job? something programming or osint related

tagging: @fvckinnefor @disruptxrr @ttattp @necoboberarc @poorpastel-pain + any1 who wants to do this ^__^

#tagged-in.zip

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dunkooro · 2 months ago

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Some WHB AU ideas I thought about on a whim:

Daycare AU! The MC is now a proud owner of a daycare after their grandpa Solomon handed it off to them so he can retire with God. All the nobles are babies and the kings are the fathers of the kids (adopted or biological, that’s up to you). The dilfs kings end up falling in love with the MC n try everything to court them.

Bonus! The baby nobles also help their respective ‘dads’ when the MC’s favor b/c they want a step-parent.

Exchange Student AU! All the characters are in a school setting and the MC is the new human exchange student from Earth; there hasn’t been another human exchange student since Solomon. All the kings are the leaders of the student counsel and Juno/Ppyong is the one that gets sent to Earth (living with Minhyeok) Also all the angels go to a rival school.

Bonus! The kings are also club leaders/part of gangs, eg. Satan is the leader of a delinquent group, Levi is the club leader of the occult group, etc.

Dragon AU! (This is based on @r0-boat post, thank you for the idea!)

The MC is the new ruler of their kingdom after the death of their parents, and discovers an old, closed off room in the castle that harbors many worn-out notebooks and tapestries of dragons—something that their parents always told them stories about when they were little. The MC finds out the old king Solomon, their ancestor, wrote about actual dragons that he was friends with—and with this, the MC drags their knight, Minhyeok, to go on an adventure to find one of these dragons. Many weeks later, they enter a seemingly abandoned village, stopping at the mouth of a large cave. Minhyeok tries to get MC to turn around only to be stopped short by a large creature breathing down their neck. It growls lowly, angry (and also curious) at the humans entering his kingdom. They found one of the dragons King Solomon wrote about—Satan.

The MC eventually meets the other dragon kings and warms up to them, the kings acknowledging that they are the key to uniting the dragon species and humans together finally, so they can come together to stop the angels (and possibly becoming their little human spouse 👀)

Bonus! Whenever the MC feels like they’re being screwed over while trying to negotiate with neighboring human kingdoms—they bring their dragon friends to intimidate them a little bit :)

(Added: 03/05)

Trapped AU! After defeating all the angels, MC is finally ready to get back to their normal life! However, the devils were not. They hold up to their promise about not letting the MC go so easily and now the MC has to find a way out to get back to Earth.

Bonus! There are some devils who aren’t fully on board with kidnapping MC and can easily be manipulated into helping the MC out if they use their words carefully.

(Added: 03/07)

Self-Aware AU! The MC is just a regular otome player in the real world and all the characters are aware that they are in a mobile game on MC’s phone/Ipad. As MC progresses through the story, the characters slowly fall in love with them—as they could hear and see MC, and some are even bold enough to say things that are outside their programming to let them know that they’re aware low-key. (the MC is confused but brushes it off as Easter eggs in the game—like a 1 in a million chance to get those quips). Now the devils are desperate to find some way to bring the MC into their world or enter MC’s world.

Bonus! The kings, seraphim, and Minhyeok have special access to their Notes app, contact list, Spotify/Apple Music, and sometimes leave love notes/messages (or semi-threatening messages from the seraphim) by making albums, texting them, etc. However, instead of being flattered, MC is unnerved by this—thinking someone hacked their device—and doesn’t touch it for a several days (they stopped doing it again after that, deleting the messages—they also have to stop Beel from doing it b/c he would forget)

(Added: 03/14)

Hybrid AU! While stranded on one of a chain of islands, MC discovers that half-man, half-animal creatures live there; all of them living in 7 different environments. MC is treated almost like royalty on each of the islands, since they’re the only human that treated them with respect in a while, and not like a monster (and they consider MC to be their mate). The MC also agrees to help defend the hybrid’s island from a ‘research’ group called H.E.A.V.E.N., that has been terrorizing/killing the hybrids in the name of science.

Bonus! The types of animals I think the kings & some of their nobles would be: Satan—goat, Sitri—ram, Mammon—African lion, Bimet—African bat-eared fox, Leviathan—sea snake, Foras—glass squid, Beelzebub—Tsetse fly, Bael—Hoverfly, Lucifer—bat, Gamigin—leopard gecko, Belphegor—Japanese serow, Beleth—albino leopard cat, Asmodeus—black widow spider, Dantalian—jumping spider (?)

(Pls Note this is based on my redesigns of the kings and their lore—the animals are not picked based off the original characters)

CEO/Coffee Shop AU! MC owns a small, yet semi-popular, coffee shop in the city; everything is going great until they somehow managed to get the attention of 7 of the biggest CEOs in their country—all of them coming in one place for a business retreat. It doesn’t make it any better that they constantly try to fight for their attention, altering the cozy atmosphere in their coffee shop.

Bonus! The MC does low-key take advantage that the CEOs were willing to pay for their rent and bills (I mean why not? They’re offering 🤷🏾)

———

This is all I got for AU ideas, plus I’m not too good of a writer so it’s not something I can write full stories about n execute it well 😭, but hopefully when I get a chance I’ll post art for that after I post the second part of the full monster forms for the kings.

I’ll add more to the post if I got more AU ideas!

#whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#whb kings #whb satan #whb mammon #whb leviathan #whb beelzebub #whb lucifer #whb belphegor #whb asmodeus #whb mc #whb au

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